Chapter 12: Memories of Things Forgotten

"Whatever are you looking for?"

-Magneto, 1999

"Do you believe it?"

Satyr's eyes darted to where Fellswoop and Creature had just exited, then he looked at Centaur. "Believe what?" he almost laughed. "That Magneto came back from the dead? That Godspeed was really on our side? That somehow, if all of that were true, we could secure peace between the mutants?"

Centaur sat back triumphantly. "At least I'm not alone."

The two mutants sat still and silent. Fellswoop had told them such a tale, such an unbelievable, unimaginable tale. What did it mean? One of two things, obviously. Either Godspeed had managed to deceive Fellswoop or Fellswoop had gone mad.

"What if it were true?" Satyr heard himself ask.

Centaur scoffed. "It isn't."

The other mutant's certainty forbad further speculation. "What do we do now?" Satyr asked instead.

"I can speak plainly to you?"

"Please," Satyr assented.

The four-legged mutant leaned in closely. "If Godspeed is dead, if that part of the story is true, then we have a great advantage over our enemies."

"True," Satyr agreed. "But if Fellswoop is lying about this...this Magneto business, how do we know that Godspeed really is dead?"

"To answer your first question, that is what we must do now," Centaur replied. "We must ascertain whether or not she is, in fact, dead. And we must find out if the information Fellswoop gave us regarding the location of the Council is true as well." He, too, shifted his gaze to the door, and then back again, speaking more quietly. "While Fellswoop is on his mad quest, he will not expect us to act. He has lost his taste for war...and for victory."

"You're talking treason you know."

"What treason?" Centaur challenged. "Is it treason to desire victory for our people? No. I'm not talking treason. I'm talking triumph...for us. For Animalis."

Satyr nodded slowly, resolutely. They were in this together now. "For Animalis."

Magneto caught her before she hit the floor. He instinctively wiped at her blood with his sleeve, saying her name, trying to rouse her. More blood flowed. Her red hair fell over his arm and her redder blood trickled between his fingers.

"Tymah! Tymah!"

He tilted her head back slightly as he lowered her to the bed on the floor. The stream of blood lessened. He swiped at it with the sheet, leaving ghastly smears on her white cheek. Finally, it seemed to stop.

She did not waken.

But unlike the others, no blood issued from her eyes, ears or anywhere else. There were no broken capillaries on her skin and fingertips. Whatever Tymah had suffered, it had been less than the man named Patrick and the little girl named Nina.

And Tymah was still alive.

That could change, Magneto knew. Patrick had lasted through an entire night.

Tymah remained motionless, but was still breathing. He reluctantly left her side to go to the tent entrance. Pulling back the flap, he looked around and, seeing the Wolverine, called out to him. Logan turned when he heard Magneto and came to him.

"What now?" he growled.

"It's Tymah."

"Who?"

Magneto gestured him inside. Logan saw the girl and the bloody sheets. "Is she dead?"

"No. But the same thing happened."

Logan lowered himself to the floor and felt Tymah's pulse and pulled back her eyelids. "She's alright, I think. Just fainted. What happened?"

Magneto shook his head. "I came in. She was asleep. When she woke, she spoke to me, but in a strange voice that wasn't like her own. She asked me if I remembered her. Then she said she couldn't stay but…"

"But what?" the other man asked darkly.

"But that… 'this one can hold me…' something like that."

Logan turned his head sharply back to Tymah as if she had just sparked or caught fire. "What the hell are we talking about here? Mind control?" he scoffed, "Demon possession?"

"Don't be absurd, Logan."

The Wolverine was up like a shot. He had Magneto by the shirt front. "What the hell is going on?!" He held Magneto's gaze for a moment, then released him with a shove.

Magneto regained his balance and smoothed his shirt. "Is it possible that…that one of the mutant factions is using a telepathic mutant to wipe out the rest of the humans? Something like that?"

"They'd need a class five for that."

Magneto did not see the complication. "Well?"

For a long moment, the Wolverine just stared at him. He ran a hand through his wild hair and held his chin for moment, the glimmer of a grim smile lacing his lips. "Well," he began, mocking Magneto, "it's just that there ain't anymore class fives left in the world Eric."

"How can you know that?"

Logan shrugged. "I guess it's possible. But the truth is, class fives get so powerful, they can't be controlled. Can't even control themselves, as we know," he paused, his eyes darkening. "Anyway, they don't allow them to live."

Magneto's stomach clenched. "Who doesn't?"

Logan watched him coldly. "Anyone. Everyone. Elemental. Animalis. It doesn't matter. It's an unspoken rule in the mutant community. Sense a class five, kill it." He shrugged again. "Women usually have their babies Sensed before they're born, to make sure. It's rare, but if it's a class five, it doesn't live to see the light of day."

Logan's words swam in front of Magneto and echoed in his ears. Mutants killing mutants en masse in war had seemed enormous enough to deal with, but this… This was mutantity destroying its own future. This was beyond coping with. But Logan went on.

"I heard of one Elemental, Himmel, he's an upstanding member of the Elemental community. Class three, weather worker. He had a daughter, class five. He kept her hidden for years…for nine years, I think, or ten. A long time. Anyway," he continued to drone on, "she was Sensed out, one way or another, and he had to kill her himself."

"Oh God…"

"Yeah," Wolverine sneered, "it's a brave, new world you've spawned here, Eric."

"I didn't spawn it," Magneto spat in a hoarse whisper.

"But you're the father of mutants, Eric," Wolverine laughed. "These are your children." He stepped up close to him. "You did this. You made this."

Magneto lifted his eyes slowly to meet Logan's. And he finally understood. "You killed Jean, Logan. Not I."

"Son of a bitch!" He swung. Magneto held him back. The claws glistened between the two men like sharp, fierce rain. Magneto saw his own eyes reflected in them.

"You were the first to kill a class five to save the rest of us, Logan!" he said in a loud, calm voice.

"You made her into that monster! You filled her up with hate! That wasn't Jean I killed, it was—" The tears came readily and he struggled against Magneto's invisible grasp. "Goddammit! Let me go!" he cried, "Please!"

Magneto did let him go, more out of surprise that willingness. It was the "please" that made him drop his guard. When Wolverine was free, he hid his face in his declawed hand and wept so fiercely and freely, it frightened Magneto. The tall, muscular mutant dropped to his knees, ignoring the still motionless girl on the floor. "Goddammit!" he shouted again.

Magneto looked at Logan as if seeing him for the first time. It was not enough, he realized suddenly, to blame Magneto for everything. For if one man could really have created the war between mutants, then another man could have stopped it. And that man was kneeling in front of him. If Logan held Magneto responsible for what was happening now, he held himself responsible for everything else. For if Magneto had won, that meant the Wolverine, Charles, and the X-Men had failed. But only Wolverine was left to bear the consequences of that failure. And he had borne it for two generations. It was why he had not chosen a side in the wars. It was why he stayed and defended this human colony. It was why he wept. He was atoning for a thousand sins, his own and others', long dead.

No man really knows how his actions will effect generations to come. No man should know.

But the Wolverine knew.

And, now, so did Magneto.

"You know, it's funny," Logan said suddenly, after what seemed like years, "when I realized I wasn't dreaming, that you were really here, I didn't want to kill you. I thought I did. I thought, maybe, if I killed you, there would be some kind of time-warp and everything would go back to the way it should've been." Still kneeling, Logan rested his hands palm up on his knees. "But in a really weird, fucked up way, I was glad to see you." He looked up at Magneto. "I haven't seen a familiar face in over a decade." He smiled weakly. "There was always a part of me that thought maybe you were right. Just maybe. Humans only ever made my life miserable." He paused, thinking. "But it was Jean. It was Jean that kept me on that side. She asked me, right before I—before she died—she asked me if I would die for them." Logan shook his head. "And I said no, not for them. For her. For Jean. And that's when I knew that I didn't care about any of them. I only cared about her. And then I killed her. And I haven't cared about anything since."

"You care about this colony, Logan. These people."

He looked around the tent. "Something to do, I guess."

Silence ruled for several minutes. Then, "You know, Pyro is still alive," Magneto said.

Logan gave a surprised laugh. "Yeah?" he sniffed. "How is the son of a bitch?"

"Dying of cancer, actually."

Wolverine wiped at his eyes and nose with the back of his forearm. "Well, fuck. I bet that was the last thing he expected."

Magneto nodded silently.

Logan remained on the floor. He lifted his head slowly to look at his one time enemy. "Eric," he said plaintively, "what is going on?"

The teleporter mutant jumped from one corner of the room to another, blinking in and out sight every few seconds. The strange sulfur-like smell that this constant movement created was becoming unbearable.

"Fuck! Jump! Cut it out!"

Jumpstep, teleporter, class three stopped just as he was about to move again. "Sorry, Blaze," he apologized to the fire mutant, who had a temper to match. Blaze looked hotly at him.

"Sit the fuck down like the rest of have, too!" he growled.

"I'm not sitting," Sees said, turning to face Blaze. "You gonna scream at me, too?"

Blaze regarded the Sensor derisively, but said nothing.

A quieter voice sounded, "Do you sense Magneta, yet?" It was Shiftstir, the telekinetic. "She should have been back by now."

The underground metal room in which the four class three mutants were stationed was, in reality, not very far from the metal room that they had been forced to vacate the day before. Sees looked coolly at Shiftstir, "I can't Sense, remember? And if I leave to go somewhere where I can Sense, I might be Sensed!"

Shiftstir bit her lip and colored. "Sorry…I forgot."

The room that they now occupied was equipped with a proto-type Sensor Shield, the kind that prevented Sensing from both outside the shield, and inside of it. All Shields developed afterwards allowed Sensor mutants and telepaths to use their powers within the Shield, but prevented anyone outside the Shield from looking in.

Sees folded her arms and sighed in frustration. "I feel like I've been Cured."

"Don't exaggerate," Blaze admonished coldly.

"I—I could take you outside the Shield real quick and then bring you right back," Jumpstep suggested, nervously tapping his feet.

"We've discussed this!" Blaze shouted. "No one leaves the Shield. Magneta left and now she's missing. We stay here, together!"

Sees shook her head. "We should never have let her leave. I told her Sky was dead. Why didn't she believe me?"

Shiftstir grimaced. "Maybe you're wrong."

"I'm not wrong!" Sees said defensively. "I know when someone's dead and when someone's alive. I don't need to see it! I feel it! Here!" she tapped the side of her head. "Sky's dead! We have to accept that!"

Jumpstep shifted in his position on the floor and said despairingly, "And we lost Magneto."

Blaze jumped up. "We didn't lose Magneto! Magneto was taken from us! Which means someone betrayed us! Someone told the Animalis and betrayed us!"

"What? Are accusing one of us?" Sees demanded.

"Should I be?" Blaze replied. "I'm the only one here who's an Elemental. The rest of you are just Out—," he stopped suddenly.

"Siders?" Sees finished for him. "We're Outsiders? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Jumpstep stood up. "Hey, man, we're all on the same side here. This is the Brotherhood of Mutants. Not just one kind of mutant, all kinds." The teleporter rarely took the offensive, especially against Blaze, but since Sees was standing closer to the firemutant than he was, it appeared he didn't mind interjecting his opinion this time.

Blaze looked at all three of them, feeling outnumbered and alone. There had been twenty five members of the Brotherhood one week ago. Now there were four. Some had died in the battle, others had simply left and gone their own ways once Magneto's frozen body had been stolen—or destroyed. Each member had been born into the Brotherhood, likely to die a member, without ever seeing alive the man they were sworn to protect. Blaze had never understood what they had been waiting for, or where the order to revive Magneto would come from. What higher authority would command them to do it? He had never understood why two generations of Brotherhood members had allowed Magneto to sit in stasis when to resurrect him would have put an end to the wars.

And, Blaze added silently, keep the Elementals on top. A sentiment he, more often than not, had to keep to himself. Magneto was a metal worker and would surely have sided with the Elementals. Blaze knew the only way the wars could end was for the Elementals to achieve total victory, a Carthaginian victory, if necessary. And where did that leave the Outsiders? Blaze wasn't sure.

"We shouldn't fight," Shiftstir broke into his thoughts. "There's enough fighting. I think we should find Magneto."

Sees sighed frustratedly. "I can't sense Magneta! Goddammit, how many times do I have to tell you that Shift?!"

Shiftstir shook her head. "Not Magneta. Magneto. We should teleport out of Elemental territory. The Sensors they have aren't that good. You have a wider range than they do. We'll port out and then find Magneto. Maybe the Animalis resurrected him."

Jumpstep stood up. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do that!" Jump was always excited when his powers proved useful. He was a needy kind of bastard.

Blaze looked at them and realized that they were waiting for him to decide; that not one of the three would make a decision without his approval; that even if all three of them agreed on Shift's plan, they would not go through with it without his say-so.

And that was the way it should be. The way it was meant to be.

"Alright," he said finally. "It's a good idea Shift." Shiftstir beamed in surprise.

They gathered close together in the center of the room and held hands, Blaze and Sees hands holding onto Jumpstep's. Blaze nodded. "Get us about a hundred miles away from here, Jump. Everybody hold on." In a second, they were all spiraling through black space.

And somewhere, not very far away from the four Brotherhood members, the only living member of the true Brotherhood of Mutants was dying.

John breathed ragged, tearing, seething breaths.

He had thought, at the end, that he would have had profound words to say, divine insight, but he felt and thought nothing except, One more breath, just one more breath.

Sentir sat beside him. He envied her steady breathing. She had one hand on his chest, moving in gentle, warm circles. It did not help his breathing in any way, but it felt nice, peaceful. He thought maybe she was crying, but he had neither the will nor the strength to turn his head to see.

Suddenly she stopped. Her fingers were motionless on his chest, the muscles tightening. "Who's there?" she asked.

Her hand left his chest. "Pyro, there's someone in here."

Pyro didn't hear anything, see anything. He turned his head slowly, painfully, and looked a question at her. Sentir was sitting upright, tense, alert. "In this room!" she declared. She left his side and he heard her walk through their small apartment, opening doors and pulling back curtains. When she returned, her face was pale with fear. "It's everywhere!" She touched the walls of the room, reaching out with her power. He didn't want to die now, he couldn't leave Sentir in this frightened state! Pyro struggled to breathe.

Shh…he felt a voice in his ear. He felt himself calming. Not yet, said the voice. I need you to remember.

It came all in a rush. He was suddenly young again, and he felt it. Standing on Alcatraz Island. At Magneto's side. Darkness. He was fighting Bobby Drake, and losing. Darkness. He was waking from unconsciousness on the ground, still on the island. Magneto was fleeing. Jean Grey was rising in the air. And he knew. He knew he had to get out of there. That she had lost it. Lost control of her powers. Darkness. He was running across the bridge. Screams! Screams ahead of him, screams behind him. Death. He felt the fear all over again, like it was new.

Now, commanded the voice, as the memories became slow motion images, come back.

Pyro, the old man dying on the bed, became Pyro of days gone by. Still on the Golden Gate Bridge all those years ago, he stopped within his own memory, and everything around him stopped as well. People froze as if someone had pushed the pause button. He did as the voice said. In silence, he turned, walked the length of the Bridge, back to the Island. Nothing moved around him, all was still. Smoke hung in the air, sparks held still midair. Water rising from around the island remained in one place. The faces around him were frozen in fear.

He passed Storm, her head turned, looking back, mid-shout. Behind her, Kitty with a child dressed in white. And behind Kitty, Bobby and Colossus and Beast. Where was Wolverine?

Pyro walked around and through them, feeling unhurried, but curious. Finally, he was back on the island. Around him, bodies were hanging in the air, some of them half-disintegrated, others just floating powder. In the center of all the motionless chaos, was Jean Grey, gleaming in blood red, and the Wolverine, struggling towards her. Some of his skin was peeled off, most of his clothing had already disintegrated. Jean Grey's eyes, he observed as he drew closer, were black, her face was a strained, blue-green. Veins bulged and capillaries scattered all over her exposed skin. Her hair was a violent, vibrant, inhuman red. Logan's face was taut, in abject pain, one foot placed in front of the other, trying desperately to reach her.

Now watch, said the voice in his ear.

Everything was moving again, the screaming restarted and hell broke free. The waters roared and explosions of sound from all over assaulted his ears.

"Jean!" the Wolverine cried. She challenged him with her black, abyssal eyes and the closer he came, the more skin he lost. Pyro could see his metal skeleton. At last, he reached her.

When they were face to face, barely a kiss away, Jean, the Phoenix, glared at him and rasped, "You would die for them?"

Struggling past unimaginable pain, Logan replied, "No. Not for them, for you. For you."

Then he saw it, there in her eyes. Jean changed. "Save me," she moaned in a human voice, no longer raspy and fierce.

"I love you," Logan said.

And then he stabbed her.

At that moment, Pyro heard a great roar that he, at first, thought was thunder, or falling steel, or the water crashing back into the sea. Jean Grey remained spiked on Logan's claws, her body limp. She looked at Logan one last time and the black in her eyes disappeared; she sighed and smiled. Then she died.

Jean Grey died.

The Phoenix did not.

Yes, said the voice. And he recognized it now.

And just as he recognized it, he was ripped from that terrible scene and brought to another place. There were humans with guns and mutants with their powers, charging at each other, spilling blood and severing limbs and taking lives. Pyro watched himself set person after person on fire. Watched himself relish in the pain he was causing, in victory. Magneto floated above them, shielding them in a great, magnetic bubble.

This was it. This was the moment. Pyro knew what came next. A weapon, a human weapon, would break through the magnetic shield and kill Magneto. Pyro would rush to his fallen body. He would cry out, "Magneto is dead!" And then, the human bloodbath would begin.

But it didn't happen.

Magneto disappeared, yes. And the battle did change. There was suddenly a fury of power and violence. Pyro's own eyes were filled with tears. But nothing had happened, except that Magneto had disappeared. Vanished from sight. All around Pyro, the Pyro who was watching his own memories, mutants shouted, "For Magneto! For Magneto!" as if Magneto had died.

But nothing had happened.

It was as if they had merely imagined it had happened. As if it had only happened in their minds.

Something had altered their minds. All of their minds. Something, someone, had changed them all—in a single moment.

The battle disappeared. He was back in his room, in his death bed, his youth gone a second time. "Phoenix?" he whispered.

Sentir was standing over him. Her eyes were overflowing with tears. "I thought—I thought you were—" She sat back at his side and wept freely, clutching his hand to her cheek.

He patted her hand. "It's alright. It's alright. I have to stick around a little longer," he said.

"That presence I sensed…it was so strong, I got distracted," Sentir said apologetically. "But it's gone now."

Pyro squeezed her hand and, looking up at the ceiling, he sighed, "No. It's not."